


And Just When I Climbed This Whole Mountainside.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Enjolras, Babies, Childbirth, FTM Enjolras, Families of Choice, MTF Courfeyrac, Marriage of Convenience, Open Marriage, Platonic Dating, Polyamory, Pregnant Trans Character, Queer Families, Trans Courfeyrac, Trans Enjolras, Trans Issues, Trans Pregnancy, platonic marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2497544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire doesn't fuck married men. Enjolras doesn't fuck. Also, there's a baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Just When I Climbed This Whole Mountainside.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from So Long, Marianne by Leonard Cohen, because I couldn't resist. Thanks so much to [](http://viklikesfic.dreamwidth.org/profile)**[viklikesfic](http://viklikesfic.dreamwidth.org/)** for the beta!

1.

Grantaire has rules, okay? He didn't come from a broken home so much as a 'let's stay together to more easily fuck up the children' kind of home, and he's seen fucked up relationships. He's perpetuated a couple of his own fucked up relationships, too, which is totally on him, but it is the genesis of The Rules.

And the first, the utmost, the one he is never allowed to break is: do not fuck a married man. Just don't. I don't care how hot he is, I don't care how much he claims his SO is okay with it, I don't care about any of his bullshit. No married guys. Ever.

He's had this rule for about three years now, and has turned down about double that amount of guys, and there was one time he had a guy back at his apartment when enough clues made their way through Grantaire's drunken head to realize what he was about to do.

So. No marrieds.

Okay, truth is, he's probably fucked up in the three years and never realized, because he tends to pick up in bars, and he's usually half drunk when he does, and he's not generally in a situation where he can fucking google the guy first and see if anything comes up. But. But the point is, he's doing his goddamn best. He tries to even avoid crushing on married dudes, he is that dedicated to the Rules.

Then Enjolras's marital status walks into his life.

 

2.

No, see, the problem is, Grantaire's known Enjolras and Combeferre for two years now, has been facebook friends for most of that, and has even connected on LinkedIn, and _never knew this about them_. It has literally never come up once. Ever. You'd think that at some point one of them would have said something. Anything. Maybe just a hint of it? Grantaire's just throwing out ideas here, but fuck a duck, at what point were Enjolras and Combeferre going to mention they got married _the day after they finished high school_?

Grantaire is agog. Grantaire is aghast. Grantaire is going to drink himself into a stupor and try to forget this ever happened.

"It's not a big deal," Enjolras says. He sounds mystified. Grantaire lifts his head from the table and blinks up at everyone else in the meeting, about half of whom, thank fuck, look as surprised as Grantaire is. The other half of whom, Grantaire is going to murder for never mentioning this to him.

"You file joint taxes, that's actually a huge deal," Bossuet says, possibly even in a professional capacity. Grantaire is surrounded by way too many law students.

Okay, and. And Grantaire can handle this. He's a big boy, he'll put on his big boy smile, lean back in his big boy chair, and pretend this is entirely okay. Because it is. Enjolras is allowed to be married. He is allowed to have joined himself in holy matrimony with someone who is not Grantaire, and that is okay. Grantaire never had a chance in hell anyway. Just look at Enjolras. And just look at how Enjolras does not look at Grantaire. He never had a chance anyway. Which is good. They would have been terrible together. Enjolras and Combeferre makes much more sense. The world has not wobbled on its axis; if Grantaire had ever even tried with Enjolras, the Earth would have fallen off of Atlas's shoulders and started rolling around amongst the stars. Total disaster.

So Grantaire tips back in his chair and says, "congratulations. When can we throw the anniversary party for?"

"June 15th," Combeferre says. He is totally calm. "I apologize for not telling you. It wasn't intentional to hide it. It's just not an important factor in our lives. Enjolras is my best friend. We just happen to be married to each other."

"You're not roommates who are practically married, you're roommates who are actually married," Bahorel says. "I feel so lied to."

Enjolras stands up. "I didn't want my family to be my next of kin on any paperwork. Combeferre's grandmother left him an inheritance that he could only access after he was married. We've been best friends since kindergarten, it seemed an obvious choice. Are there any more questions?"

His tone doesn't really invite any. 

"Excellent," Enjolras says. "Now, let's move on to actually important matters."

 

3.

First thing Grantaire does is confront Combeferre's girlfriend.

Courfeyrac greets him with a hug, because she's the most empathetic person Grantaire knows, and then she thumps him on the back, because she's also the one who pours water on him when he's making a drunken ass of himself. This happens less often than it used to. Yay, negative reinforcement.

"Course I knew," Courfeyrac says.

"Let me guess, you were maid of honor," Grantaire says, because his second confrontation would have been with anyone who knew the perfect couple back in high school. Which is a list that consists of Courfeyrac, Courfeyrac, and, yes, Courfeyrac.

"Yeah, although we told the parents that I was best man, because, you know," Courfeyrac waves her hand. "Easier. The wedding was all about making shit easier."

"Uh-huh," Grantaire says. He's been trying so hard not to be miserable. Really, he's been trying. It's just that Courfeyrac doesn't have as high a moral standard as Grantaire does, it seems. Which is depressing and also sad. Grantaire's trying not to be miserable, and also trying not to judge. He's failing utterly at both. "And now you're dating Combeferre?"

"Yep," Courfeyrac says. She swats Grantaire because his face is probably doing judgmental things right now, and he could use the additional negative reinforcement. "Grantaire, they're not going to stay married forever. They probably even have their divorce date circled on the calendar. This is not a big deal, okay? They did it for the paperwork and to get their families off their backs. Enjolras is happy for me and Combeferre, and they're open about it, so Enjolras is free to date whoever he wants to. Just like Combeferre is. So get over yourself, winecask," she adds kindly.

 

4.

"I'm just trying to understand," Grantaire says to his reflection. His reflection is not having any of it. Grantaire sighs in agreement. It's not like open relationships are that hard to understand. It's just, it's just that he's spent this long thinking that Enjolras was out of his league because Grantaire is nothing but a toad looking at the heavens when it comes to him. That Enjolras is married should put him completely out of his league, except that it's apparently not a barrier. The fact that Grantaire is Grantaire, however, remains the barrier.

Plus also the fact that Grantaire's just never going to ask Enjolras out. Getting rejected would probably be good for him, it'd put an end to all hoping, but it would also make things awkward. Enjolras is such a nonsexual person. Asking him out would be like scribbling in crayon over a marble statue. Grantaire doesn't need Enjolras to say no. He already knows Enjolras would say no. Giving himself some hope, something to aspire to, that if he just cleaned up his act, stopped being a fuck-up, that maybe one day Enjolras would smile at him and count him as one of his close friends. Never date him, because Enjolras doesn't date -- Enjolras who _has been married this whole time_ , of course he doesn't date, but Combeferre dates, so that's wrong. But the point remains, Enjolras would never date Grantaire.

But that's always been because Enjolras wouldn't. Not because Grantaire wouldn't.

Except now Enjolras is married. And Grantaire totally wouldn't. He's not coming between that. He's got rules. They're there to protect him and try to prevent him from fucking up his life more than he has, and maybe have the side effect of doing less-fucking-up of other people's lives.

And, okay, so Enjolras is married, but in an open relationship, does that change anything? His husband gives him the okay to date other people, his husband actually is dating other people, and so what's Grantaire's objections? That a ring on a finger (Enjolras doesn't wear a ring on his finger) matters more than what the married couple says it does?

This is so hard.

There's nothing else for it. Grantaire is going to have to ask Enjolras out. He needs the external rejection right now, because going in circles about this is going to leave him dizzy for the rest of his life.

 

5.

"Sure, let's give it a shot," Enjolras says.

What.

 

6.

Grantaire can't say "this wasn't supposed to happen", so instead they have a first date. Enjolras has a thing with his trans group, and Grantaire is there to help provide muscle support in case anyone needs to be forcibly ejected. Usually, Grantaire and Bahorel would go out for food and drinks afterward, so this time, Grantaire goes out for a fancy-ish dinner with Enjolras. Totally normal, right? Totally, totally normal.

It goes better than expected, probably because Grantaire manages to remain entirely sober the entire time. It helps that Enjolras isn't much of a drinker and absolutely hates being carded, so there's basically no temptation to order alcohol. Grantaire seriously needs to have a mini-Enjolras perched on his shoulder all the time, making sure he doesn't embarrass Enjolras by ordering alcohol. Grantaire'd be 100% booze-free in, like, a month. Just think of all the money he could waste on other things that are going to slowly kill him!

Enjolras checks his phone. "Combeferre wants to know if I'm going to be home tonight," he says.

Grantaire freezes. "Um, are you going to be home tonight?"

"I could let Combeferre and Courfeyrac have the place to themselves," Enjolras says, "and go back to yours."

"Um," Grantaire says. "Yes. That would be perfectly lovely."

"But," Enjolras continues, "there won't be any sex. Let's just get that clear."

Grantaire exhales in relief. "Enjolras, thank you, thank you, thank you." Because Grantaire's still not sure how he feels on the whole fucking-a-married-dude-even-though-it's-okay thing. "No sex would be wonderful. Let's definitely go back to my place and not have sex."

Enjolras insists on paying the check and then they go back to Grantaire's place and don't have sex.

 

7.

It's the best sleep-over party Grantaire's ever had. That is not a joke.

All right, so it's not exactly some braiding-each-other's-hair, playing-truth-or-dare kind of thing. Grantaire shows Enjolras around, Enjolras makes judgey faces at some of the decor and some of the books on the shelves, but then Enjolras notices that Grantaire owns more books of magic tricks than are good for him, and then Grantaire is teaching Enjolras magic, and it's, excuse the pun, completely magical. By the end of the night, Enjolras can reliably make things disappear. Grantaire is very proud.

"If only you could do that trick on the patriarchy," Grantaire says.

"Among other things," Enjolras agrees, because trust Enjolras to have already considered this and, like, ranked them in order of importance.

And, see, this is the point where, if Grantaire were going to have sex with Enjolras, he'd make a joke about making Enjolras's clothes disappear. But they are not going to have sex, so he can't say that. But Enjolras is still going to need a change of clothes. Um. Enjolras is basically a foot taller than him, so Grantaire hopes he has stuff that fits Enjolras. Sweaters? Sweaters are usually a good bet. Enjolras could totally sleep in one of Grantaire's sweaters.

Unless Enjolras usually sleeps naked, in which case... in which case, Grantaire is probably going to have to take the bed and leave Enjolras to the couch, because thinking about Enjolras being naked in a bed is just not ever going to be a good idea, especially since they're not going to have sex. Except he totally can't make Enjolras take the couch. Grantaire's short; him on the couch isn't a big deal. It would be really mean to inflict the couch on Enjolras. So that's settled, Enjolras gets the bed.

Shit, Enjolras is going to be sleeping in his bed.

"So, uh," Grantaire says, doing his best to vanish completely into the couch cushions. "Just to be clear, is this a no sex ever thing, or a no sex sometimes thing? Just so I'm not surprised?"

Enjolras pauses for a moment, "No sex for the foreseeable future, and probably ever," he says. "Is that a problem?"

"Nope," Grantaire says. And, because honesty is the best policy, or at least, this is what he has been informed, he says, "I'm not sure I'm on board with having sex with a married dude yet, anyway. I have-- had rules about that. Don't be that guy, you know? It'd take me awhile to get used to it. So it being off the table, that's good. I have to mindbend less." The less Grantaire can fuck up, the better. Except that he's totally lying about not being sure about having sex with a married dude, though. A married dude in general, hell no. A married dude who happens to be Enjolras? Grantaire's on board with that. But Enjolras is still married, so Grantaire would probably hate himself for it forever. Even though it's okay.

Enjolras is smiling a little oddly at him. "You know, some people have a kink _to_ sleep with married people."

"Yeah, but I don't," Grantaire says. "Both parents cheated, I've been the other man a couple times, not interested in doing that again. It's a thing."

Enjolras nods. "I respect your thing."

That's nearly solemn. Grantaire nods back, nowhere near as solemn, but meaning it. "I respect your thing, too, Enjolras."

 

8.

There's only so much coffee they can drink and so many things they can talk about before Enjolras can't stop yawning. Grantaire stands up. "So, uh, the spare toothbrushes are in the drawer, you're welcome to any of my clothes that'll fit you, and you can have the bed."

"We can share the bed," Enjolras corrects. "My objection is to fucking each other, not sleeping together."

"Um." Grantaire scratches his nose. "I'm kind of a cuddler. There could be some inappropriate touching."

"That's fine," Enjolras says. "I might inappropriately touch you, too."

Yeah, but it's more complicated on Grantaire's side of things, but if Enjolras is cool with it, then Grantaire will be cool with it, too. Even though Grantaire's the one experiencing the sexual attraction and would be the one getting the erections of guilt and shame. "Um, okay. But if, um, anything happens and starts to bother you, kick me out and I'll take the couch."

Enjolras rolls his eyes. "You are not going to offend my sensibilities if you get hard. Erections happen. There's a difference between that and having sex. Combeferre gets erections all the time, you know, but we haven't had sex since the wedding."

Grantaire did not know. Grantaire was not going to assume. "That's good?"

Enjolras nods. "We had a strap-on. I told him I wouldn't mind doing it again, but we agreed that he could do better than having sex with someone who _didn't mind it_. So any reaction to stimuli that your dick might experience, I'm not going to run screaming just because I don't want to have sex."

Yeah, okay. "Yeah, okay," Grantaire says. "Let's go sleep together."

 

9.

If only Grantaire were better at rules, he would not be currently eating brunch with Enjolras and Enjolras's husband and Enjolras's husband's girlfriend. This seems excessive for the morning after a first date, except Grantaire maybe should have seen this coming.

Did he see this coming? He's not sure.

They're in the Corinthe, which has terrible food but never misgenders anyone, so Les Amis are probably single-handedly (group-handedly?) keeping it in business. And it's all so friendly and normal and domestic, Grantaire wants to hide under the table. He had shit happy families modeling, okay? He doesn't know what to do with a morning-after where people actually like each other and are totally cool with what happened the night before. No one's screaming at each other. Grantaire feels like an alien from, like, Mars or something, sent to observe the earthlings. He has no frame of reference for this at all.

He should probably be writing this down for later, so he doesn't forget. Instead he's eating Belgian waffles while Combeferre and Courfeyrac share a milkshake, because they are always adorable together, even when they are settings things on fire that annoy them. Enjolras is mostly on his phone, at turns scowling at it and smiling at it, but he's somehow doing it in a way that doesn't ignore the people actually at the table. Enjolras is very talented. Also at times getting hand-fed by Courfeyrac, who keeps putting pieces of pancake on her fork and shoving it into Enjolras's mouth

"Practice for the baby," Courfeyrac says cheerfully and Grantaire drops his fork.

"Um, baby?" Grantaire says.

Enjolras nods, typing into his phone. "But we're still figuring out how to time the pregnancy, so don't tell any of our parents."

Grantaire really wasn't. He also doesn't know any of their parents. This appears to be a minor detail right now. "I won't say a word."

At that, Enjolras seems to realize that Grantaire is totally, completely floundering here. He looks up and gives Grantaire a gentle smile. "I find the idea of giving birth to be intriguing. But don't worry about it, we'll tell everyone when it happens."

Grantaire needs to reboot his mind from that mental image. This is like being told Enjolras is married, but even worse.

Courfeyrac pats Grantaire on the shoulder. "Relax, it's okay. Me and Combeferre are raising the baby. Uncle Enjolras doesn't have to babysit until the kid is out of diapers."

"Uncle Enjolras is willing to babysit," Enjolras corrects. "Uncle Enjolras, however, has never gotten a baby to stop crying in his life. You do not want Uncle Enjolras to babysit. Uncle Enjolras is useless until you want someone to out-stubborn a toddler."

"I'm, um," Grantaire volunteers, "pretty good with babies. I can babysit."

Courfeyrac beams at him. And then takes out a pen and hands it to Grantaire, along with a napkin. "Sign and date, please. We are going to hold you to that in a year or two."

 

10.

Grantaire doesn't know what's even going on in his life anymore. That was the weirdest first date he's ever been on. Second date? The morning-after might count as the second date. Counting is unexpectedly hard.

Enjolras suggests the third (second?) date, which is a walk through the park, literally. They pick up trash, which is a pointless waste of time, because it's just going to get messed up again, but he can't deny that it does look pretty in the short term, before the long term fucks it all back up again.

Then on their fourth date, Grantaire takes Enjolras to a dinner and a movie, because that's a classic of the dating genre, and he's pretty sure by now that Enjolras has never been on a stereotypical date in his life. Combeferre and Enjolras probably told their parents that there were secret childhood sweethearts or whatever when they were spinning their reasons for a quick marriage, but Grantaire would bet more money than he has that the golden couple have never been on a date in their lives. Study dates do not count, Enjolras.

Enjolras just shrugs, and then he steals some popcorn, so Grantaire feels all heart-warmed and stuff.

It's pretty good. Grantaire's never realized before just how often sex fucks things up. He's not really sure how this differs from just being good friends with someone, to be honest, but, um, the emotional connection? They're building one? He'll figure it out.

Also, the sleeping together. The sleeping together helps. Enjolras has awesome bedhead and, now, a drawer in Grantaire's bedroom.

This is too good to last, but Grantaire is enjoying it anyway. He's going to cherish this when it all falls apart.

 

11.

If Grantaire were a betting man, which he is, but if he had been placing bets, which he hasn't been, he probably would have figured this would have fallen apart before now. It's nice, not being someone's primary relationship. Combeferre will always come first for Enjolras, and then Courfeyrac and Enjolras's friendship probably also slots in there, leaving Grantaire third, which reduces so much stress on Grantaire to be a good boyfriend. He can be a good sometimes-boyfriend. So on days when he can't be there, that's fine, Enjolras has other options. Grantaire can drink himself into a stupor and it doesn't have any impact on Enjolras at all, it's great.

But anyway, it has not yet fallen apart, and now Enjolras has started on the journey to get to experience the miracle of birth without the miracle of four a.m. feedings.

Grantaire does not know how to do supportive boyfriend to someone who is pregnant and who went into it deciding that it would be prudent if they all used female pronouns for him during all the medical stuff. This is not in the boyfriend manual. Okay, it's probably in the boyfriend manual, but not the one that Grantaire has.

He doesn't actually have a manual. This is a terrible metaphor.

Also, Grantaire is being around Enjolras's parents, who aren't really sure what Grantaire is doing there, even though he's said moral support. No one's mentioned the polyamory thing to them, and no one has also mentioned the epic plan of eventual divorce and custody agreements, and Enjolras has already kicked them out of the process entirely once, after they'd decided that the pregnancy meant that Enjolras had changed his mind about being trans. But three weeks before Enjolras is due, the parents find out that Courfeyrac's moved into Enjolras and Combeferre's townhouse and Enjolras has moved into Courfeyrac's apartment, and shit starts going down. Grantaire's job is to distract the parental units, all of whom are talking darkly about being glad for the pre-nup they made their kids sign, and Enjolras's mom is screaming that Enjolras shouldn't have a baby with someone who is going to leave, and Combeferre's dad is talking about proximity to the hospital, like he can logic this into something he can understand. Grantaire's on board with the pretend-this-makes-sense-from-a-cissexual-heterosexual-monogamous-perspective, but Enjolras refuses to talk to any of them, Combeferre is goddamn busy, and the parents are blaming Courfeyrac.

No one has decided to blame Grantaire, which is good, but it's a bit stressful, is the point. Grantaire's of the opinion that it can't hurt to just be honest with the parents, but no one asked Grantaire. True, the parents are a certain kind of horrible, and Grantaire's used to a completely different kind of horrible. These parents care about their kids. Just in the wrong ways, as far as their kids are concerned. Which is the important perspective, true. Grantaire's just not used to the wrong kind of caring. It probably sucks as much as a complete lack of caring because, hey, the effect's the same: anger, frustration, potential estrangement, definitely things thrown at the walls...

So, it's stressful. And that's why he's four bottles deep into it on the night Enjolras goes into labor.

 

12.

Joly and Bossuet are drinking with him, because Joly and Bossuet are the best friends any man could have, and they're at Grantaire's apartment, because doing this in a bar, or any place with unending alcohol, would be a bad idea. They can't drink more than the contents of Grantaire's apartment and that's good.

Grantaire's phone is on vibrate because he doesn't want to talk to anyone but he can't put it on silent, not with Enjolras due in two weeks, but he's a bit too drunk to notice it buzzing. He doesn't know what Joly and Bossuet's excuses are, but then Bahorel's knocking on the door hard enough to break it. "You shitheads better not be dead in there," he shouts.

Grantaire stumbles over to the door and lets him in. "Hi?"

Bahorel looks around the room. "Have you been here all night?"

Joly is hanging upside down off of the couch. Bossuet is pretending he can walk in a straight line. Grantaire tries to look sober. "Yes," he says.

"I can't believe this. Enjolras went into labor three hours ago," Bahorel says. Holy fucking fuckity fucking fuck. "You," he points to Grantaire, "get changed, I'm taking you to the hospital. Courfeyrac needs you. She needed you _three hours ago_. You two," he points to Joly and Bossuet, "take Grantaire's bed and sleep it off. We need you sober once the baby shows up."

Grantaire salutes sloppily. "Yes, sir." He checks his phone. There's like ten missed calls, some fuck-off number of texts, and six voicemails. They are probably very angry voicemails. "Shit, the parents."

"I'll handle the parents," Bahorel says menacingly.

 

13.

Courfeyrac hugs Grantaire, which is more than Grantaire deserves, and then tells him that she'll shout at him later. Grantaire gets some intermittent sleep on the chairs in the waiting room; every time he opens his eyes, Courfeyrac is pacing nervously. Every so often, someone comes back to tell them how things are going and Grantaire feels himself getting more and more sober as the length of time Enjolras is in the delivery room grows. At least Combeferre is with him. Combeferre won't let anything happen to Enjolras, right?

"I was a sixteen hour labor," Grantaire says. His mom never let him forget it. "But my mom was okay. Everything was okay. Everything's going to be okay."

At seven, Prouvaire shows up with coffee and breakfast and a print-out of Les Amis's aww-new-baby rota, which is in the process of being revised with sharpies and feedback from the texts flying around. This whole thing was pretty well planned out, but now it's not only two weeks early, it's mostly delayed until, you know, the guest of honor arrives.

"But you can go home and sleep, Grantaire," Prouvaire says, making himself comfortable in the waiting room.

"I really shouldn't," Grantaire says. If he'd kept drinking, he'd probably be passed out drunk right now. He would have slept through the entire thing. He can't sleep now. He can't miss this.

"I'll call you if anything happens," Prouvaire promises. "I'll make Bahorel kick down your door again."

Grantaire stands. The world only spins a little. "If you're sure?"

"We're sure," Courfeyrac says.

 

14.

Naturally, Grantaire oversleeps and misses everything.

 

15.

He is 100% sober when he comes back to the hospital, so at least that's something. Enjolras is in a private room and baby's in the NICU, says the texts, and Grantaire's on all the lists to see both of them.

Combeferre's asleep in the nursing chair in Enjolras's room when Grantaire arrives. Courfeyrac's home sleeping, Joly and Bossuet are getting last minute baby items, Feuilly is assembling the crib, Prouvaire is stocking the fridge with food, and Bahorel is doing whatever he's been doing to manage the parents. Grantaire hasn't heard a thing from them since the voicemails last night. He's not sure he wants to know.

Grantaire sits down carefully in the visitor's chair, trying not to make too much noise. He's brought Enjolras's spare phone battery, favorite bright red boxer briefs, and another change of clothes, and he shoves them into Enjolras's half-packed hospital bag.

When Grantaire looks up again, Enjolras is staring at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Hi," Grantaire whispers.

"Marianne still in the NICU?" Enjolras asks.

Grantaire nods. "The nurses say she'll probably be out tomorrow. They're being careful of some things." He twists his fingers. "I, um. I'm sorry. About everything."

"Good, you should be," Enjolras says and falls back asleep.

That shouldn't amuse Grantaire as much as it does, but it still does, which Grantaire chalks up to him being hopelessly in love with Enjolras. He settles in, doing the hospital-side coordination of things, keeping everyone up to date on Enjolras (still sleeping) and Combeferre (same). When a nurse comes by to check on Enjolras, Grantaire gets directions and an escort over the NICU, where they supervise him washing his hands and then show him Marianne. He isn't allowed to touch, which is good. She looks very fragile and breakable. Also a little weird and very tiny, but Grantaire is sure that once she gets over being born, she's going to be the most adorable baby on the planet. She's got the genes for it.

"Hi there, sweetie," he says. She's asleep, just like all three of her parents. Marianne totally knows what's up. Smart baby. "I'm Uncle Grantaire. It's a bit complicated. We'll explain when you're older."

 

16.

Bahorel shows up around dinner time to relieve Grantaire. "The parents?" Grantaire asks, standing outside the room while the nurses do medical things to Enjolras that really don't need an audience.

"Taken care of," Bahorel says. "They know being pregnant has been hard on Enjolras and that he'll need time to recover from it and the labor. He'll get better faster if he can sleep through the night without being woken up by the baby. All of us are going to pitch in with her, because we feel that this baby belongs to all of us, but Courfeyrac is going the extra mile, because she's Enjolras and Combeferre's best friend and called dibs. Absolutely no one is a homewrecker. The parents have been convinced of all of this and are impressed at how well their kids are accommodating and balancing Enjolras's health and career with the baby's needs. I'm told that if Enjolras had just explained all this instead of yelling about personal autonomy, all of this trouble could have been averted, and it's so nice of me to take the time to explain what's going on."

"You're a miracle worker," Grantaire says.

Bahorel snorts. "Not really. I convinced them that Enjolras and Combeferre aren't separating, just temporarily living apart. That's going to backfire."

"Yeah, but not now," Grantaire says. "That's better than I could have hoped for yesterday."

"They also want to visit while Enjolras and Marianne are in the hospital. I'm pretty sure if Enjolras lets them do that, they can be convinced to go away and then only come back to visit once the baby is ready to receive visitors."

The door opens while Bahorel is talking and Enjolras lifts his head tiredly from the pillow. The curtain is still pulled out a little and obscures part of his lower body, but he's definitely dressed. "They want to what?"

Grantaire and Bahorel come inside and close the door. Bahorel leans against it and looks Enjolras in the eye. "If you let them see you all exhausted and post-baby, and let them see Marianne while she's still clearly newborn and can't do much more than blink, they'll be satisfied and go away, and you can control the next time they show up."

Enjolras sighs. "Fine. Let the vultures descend."

"Great, I'll let them know," Bahorel says. "We can rehearse the cover story while they buy the most gender-annoying balloon they can find."

"Also, we maybe should get in the habit of calling them the grandparents," Grantaire suggests.

Enjolras shakes his head. "They can get called the grandparents when they start using the right pronouns."

 

17.

Grantaire sticks around as moral support when the parents arrive, and Courfeyrac shows up at the same time, in a gorgeous dress and impeccable makeup. She's clearly been briefed on the cover story as well, because all she talks about is how excited she is to be helping out with the baby and how much she loves kids. Enjolras is either more exhausted than he was earlier today (a real possibility) or playing it up so he doesn't get more grief from the parents (also a possibility) and just says that Courfeyrac has great maternal instincts. Bahorel and Courfeyrac take the parents to see Marianne and when they come back, Enjolras has fallen asleep, or is faking it very well. Grantaire isn't asking.

Courfeyrac conducts the parents out, talking a mile a minute about all the parenting-related books she's been reading and buttering them up by asking for advice. Bahorel goes along in case the parents need any further incentive to leave. As soon as they are out of the room, Enjolras opens his eyes.

"God bless Courfeyrac," he sighs. He pats the bed next to him and Grantaire sits down, trying to be as careful as possible. Enjolras still looks pretty terrible. Grantaire doesn't want to accidentally do anything that could hurt Enjolras. And, well, that's basically the story of his entire life, isn't it?

"I really am sorry about the other night," Grantaire says.

"I know you are, and we are going to talk about it later," Enjolras says. It's very ominous. Grantaire's been doing so much better about not drinking when Enjolras is relying on him, and, look, Grantaire has the most flexible schedule of all their friends. It's supposed to be his job to fill in the gaps in the baby rota. He needs to be goddamn reliable. And no way in fucking hell can he be drunk or hungover or even thinking about alcohol when he's around a baby. No. It's not okay. He is never doing that. Maybe some people can responsibly pair babies and alcohol, but Grantaire is not one of them. Grantaire is not even on the same planet as one of them. 

He's already talked to Prouvaire and gotten himself down for all the things that aren't directly baby-handling, just in fucking case. Grantaire will wash all the dishes and do all the laundry and be a goddamn domestic god, before he will do so much as touch Marianne and alcohol on the same day. Because that is not something he is ever allowed to do. Alcohol and kids do not mix. Grantaire's pretty shit about following his rules, but this is bigger than a rule. This is a fucking fact of his existence. He is not doing it. Grantaire's made plenty of promises to himself, but he'll be damned if he breaks one he made when he was goddamn six years old.

Enjolras pokes him in the thigh. "Stop the shame spiral, we don't have time for it. Tell me what you're doing to the nursery."

The nursery is formerly the smaller of the two guest rooms, because Enjolras and Combeferre had bought their townhouse with the understanding that their friends would always be crashing on the couch, so why not provide a more comfortable alternative. "You are not supposed to know what we are doing to the nursery," Grantaire says.

What they're doing to the nursery involves a meadow, excruciatingly correct constellations on the ceiling, and Prouvaire penciling quotes on the wall that are neither too morbid or too age-inappropriate. Someone is watching Prouvaire at all times to make sure of this. There's softer lighting than before, a giant comfy couch, a baby monitor, and a changing table stocked with diapers next to the child-sized bookshelf stuffed with books. They may have gone a bit overboard by a factor of, um, seven. Right now, Grantaire checks his watch, Joly and Bossuet are probably pushing each other onto things to see if they get hurt. It's baby-proofing at its finest.

Enjolras rolls his eyes. "Prouvaire wanted to know our opinions on A. A. Milne; you're doing stuff to the nursery."

"Shut up," Grantaire says fondly, "it's a surprise. So you're just going to have to be surprised. I'm not going to break the sacred trust of friendship and blood oaths just because you asked."

"Oh, fine," Enjolras says. He's going to sulk. Grantaire knows he's going to sulk. "Surprise us, then. But I'll bet you Bahorel is telling Courfeyrac _right now_."

"Then you're just going to have to lose the bet to Courfeyrac," Grantaire says. "I'm okay with this."

"I'm not," Enjolras says and pokes Grantaire again.

Grantaire doesn't care. Grantaire is serene with his life choices right now.

 

18.

Enjolras is discharged from the hospital half a day before Marianne is, and then they all give the new parents a couple days to bond with the baby and get thoroughly sleep-deprived so they can show up afterwards and not be completely in the fucking way. Grantaire is babysitting Enjolras, mostly meaning that he makes sure Enjolras's pillows are fluffed and Enjolras's laptop battery is charged. Enjolras is determined to get back to normal as quickly as possible and get rid of the pregnancy body even faster.

Grantaire would offer to burn the maternity clothes, except Enjolras would just lecture him about it.

"Next time, we are finding a place where I can give birth as a man," Enjolras says.

Grantaire actually drops the plate he was washing. 

He's lucky today. It doesn't break. He picks it up carefully.

Enjolras doesn't appear to notice from where he's sitting on the couch, working on his and Combeferre and Courfeyrac's spiffy new communication plan. Hey, that's a great idea, why don't they _all learn to communicate_.

"Yeah?" Grantaire asks.

"Yeah, we're thinking about one with Courfeyrac's sperm," Enjolras says. He looks up. "Do you want a baby, too?" He's pretty casual about it, fucking hell, Enjolras, that is not a casual question, what the fuck. 

"Um, no, I'm good," Grantaire says. "Completely fine without fatherhood in the picture." Grantaire is many things. None of them should ever be a dad.

Enjolras nods and goes back to his laptop.

What even is Grantaire's life anymore.

 

19.

"Great, babysitters," Courfeyrac says when she opens the door. She's got burp cloths on both shoulders, and she hands Marianne to Prouvaire, who looks enchanted, and a burp cloth to Joly, who does not. "Don't be back for at least twenty minutes. Stay out as long as possible."

Bahorel's the only one who knows how to put a baby wrap on, so he gets to carry her while they show Marianne the neighborhood. Marianne manages to not start crying for nearly twenty-five minutes. There's no point in having a meeting anywhere but the townhouse, and Grantaire bets that Marianne's parents are going to very quickly regret subjecting her to bad influences, because Bahorel has just nicknamed their kid 'the littlest loudest MC' and that's probably going to end in tears. Maybe of laughter, but definitely tears.

There's totally a meeting agenda. Grantaire even read it before coming it. But he's not the only one who can't stop making faces at the baby to try to get her to smile. Marianne puts up with them, but Enjolras calls the meeting to an end early, looking very disappointed in all of them and their limited attention spans.

"The baby is better behaved," Enjolras grumbles. Grantaire can't bring himself to be ashamed.

 

20.

It turns out that having a baby is a fuckton of paperwork and financial and custody arrangements, and when Courfeyrac sends out a text that everything's all settled now, the only thing to do is throw a party. But a quiet one, the baby's sleeping.

Grantaire has a premonition that this is what the rest of his life is going to be like, or at least the next few years. He kind of likes the sound of that.

When the inevitable crying starts, Grantaire volunteers to go check on her and give her a bottle. He's been drinking water tonight, so after a quick look over and making sure that Grantaire knows what he's doing, he's sent into the nursery.

Marianne's awake and not very happy. Grantaire changes her diaper, then settles down with her on the couch and offers the bottle. She seems dubious at best, but is eventually convinced to try it.

"It's formula," Grantaire coaxes. "You like formula, remember?"

Marianne looks up at Grantaire. Fuck, Grantaire's forgotten the way babies can just look at you.

"You've got a worse stare than your Uncle Enjolras," Grantaire says, and brushes a wisp of Marianne's hair to the side. "Okay, here's the deal, kid. Your dad knows everything and is the most competent man I've ever met. Your mom is the kindest and more generous person alive, and also, like, tied for the most competent. Your Uncle Enjolras is hellfire personified mixed with, I'm totally serious, cuddles. He gives great cuddles, I swear. And here I am, the fuck-up. But that's important, you're going to have to remember that. Because you got three great responsible adults and, at some point in your life, that's really going to suck. You're going to mess up and you're going to be surrounded by people who have their shit together. It's going to suck. But don't worry, because there's me. I'll be around, too. I know what it's like to fuck up. I hope you never fuck up as bad as I have, but, you know, I'll be here. When you can't figure out your math homework, your dad will teach it to you, and I'll commiserate about how much math sucks. When you hate the world and everything that's in it, your Uncle Enjolras will try to convince you of the beauty of humanity, and I'll remind you that people really suck sometimes. And while you're hating everyone and everything, your mom will invite strangers to sleep on the couch, or maybe just Marius, she does that, but anyway, I'll be there. Your parents will support you in every way, but if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, someone who really, really, _really_ gets it, that's me."

Marianne looks vaguely concerned about this, but maybe Grantaire's just projecting. Because, yeah, when it's laid out like that... fuck, Grantaire's going to be the most unhelpful at actually solving problems. Go Grantaire, worst uncle ever.

"But, hey, it's cool," he says. "You're going to have your own friends to hang out with and cry on, and if you take after your parents at all, you're going to be, like, running for kindergarten class president and winning. Although I should warn you, class president is a ceremonial role with limited-to-no real power, and basically just exists so it can weed out all the good-intentioned ambitious kids who want to fix the world and then grind them under the heel of frustration and their own insignificance. The only ones who remain are the ones who enjoy being just a figurehead, or don't realize that they are. If you don't believe me, just ask your parents, they met at a student council meeting. But trust me, student government is soul-destroying. Let's keep you away from it. We're going to make sure you don't ever try to do democracy inside a dictatorship. Or, if you do, that it's much higher stakes than high school. Because, kid, you've got great parents on your side, and they're going to raise you right. I'll fucking make sure of it."

Marianne screws up her face like she's about to cry, but then decides not to. Grantaire figures this is the baby equivalent of a shrug.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure about that, either. How good at this I'll be, I mean. But I'm going to figure it out. I'm pretty shitty at figuring things out, but I've come this far. I'm not going to be the cool uncle, because that's Bahorel, he won that coin toss. I'm not going to be the weird one, because, damn it, kid, we have got you covered on weird. I'm that strange uncle who was part-time dating your Uncle Enjolras when you were born, and if luck keeps going, will keep dating him until, well, until he dumps me. Which, let me just get it clear for you now, is totally okay, and adults can handle adult relationships all by themselves, it is never your fault. Like, you might get shit when you're older about the way you were born and how things are working out, but I promise you, and your parents will promise you, too, this was all planned. If shit happens, if adults can't handle adult things, it's never, ever your fault. You're the kid. It's so beyond your pay grade."

Grantaire sighs.

"Fuck it, you're asleep, you're not even listening, are you? Figures. Here I am, promising you that you ain't ever going to grow up to be me, and you fall asleep on me. That's-- that's really touching, MC." He smiles. "Glad we had this talk."


End file.
